The Invisible Man
by dimpleforyourthoughts
Summary: A coda to Citizen Fang from Sam's POV, disregarding 8x10. "The alcohol he just downed burns something fierce in his esophagus, and with an acidic song slips down, down, down, turning into molten lead as it seeps through his veins. Sam Winchester has never been one to wax poetic, but he's pretty sure the ground is shifting beneath his feet and he's not standing upright."


**Author's Note: A brief-au ending to Citizen Fang, following Sam's thoughts when he runs into Amelia in the bar. (written before 8x10 aired, so please disregard canon). Please read and review!**

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The alcohol he just downed burns something fierce in his esophagus, and with an acidic song slips down, down, down, turning into molten lead as it seeps through his veins. Sam Winchester has never been one to wax poetic, but he's pretty sure the ground is shifting beneath his feet and he's not standing upright.

Everything's a little bit hazy right now.

Because seconds before this moment there had been Dean. Dean being stubborn and uncalled for and hurtful. Dean shunting Sam off to the side like he's five years old again and can't keep up with him and Dad. Dean not trusting Sam and not letting Sam help and not _letting Sam. _

And then seconds later there was Amelia. _Amelia_. Saying words that feel like the brush of tender fingertips in his face. Standing there with messy hair and chewed fingernails and looking like she's aching to reach out and touch him, a wary smile on her face that he is so familiar with. When was the last time he had touched anyone? When was the last time he'd felt the touch of an embrace, any embrace? Since Dean came back? The realization lives a burnt taste in his mouth that he tries to convince himself is alcohol.

Amelia's standing there with her purse and her cautious brow and saying "I never thought I'd see you again" and "I missed you" and "Come back" and somehow those words—words he would have once given anything for—are falling on deaf ears.

Amelia's standing there, and Dean drives, miles away in a car that Sam's not sure he can call home anymore. Dean who lied to Sam, Dean who doesn't trust Sam, Dean who doesn't know Sam anymore.

Amelia says something like "So? What do you think? About coming back?"

It's static and feedback on a broken sound system. Sam Winchester hears the twangy heart broken tune in the crowded bar, he hears the mumble of the bikers to his left and the slap of shot glasses. He feels the pleading look in Amelia's eyes. He feels that alcohol work into his system, burning and burning until it seems to eat away at his soul, or what's left of it anyways. Sam vaguely wonders how much alcohol it would take until it ate away at every bit of him, so he remembered nothing. How many shots of poison would it take to erase Sam Winchester? To take a man who had built something that resembled a life but now looked like the pun to a really bad joke and eviscerate his very existence?

He thinks of the Impala, where the only sign of him still there is the toy soldiers crammed in the backseat and the legos in the glove compartment. He thinks of Dean, who used to look at Sam like he craved him but now looks at Sam with doubt. He thinks of Amelia, who didn't even bother to keep the picture of her and Sam in the dining room.

There's a difference between being lonely and alone, Sam knows this. But he also knows that the words uttered to him by the King of Hell over a year ago were never truer than they were in this moment. Here, standing in this dingy bar, looking at the woman who he looked for and thinking about the brother that he didn't, Sam feels the most shattering silence he's ever experienced.

Sam Winchester walks out of that bar and in to the frigid night air. He gets into Martin's beat up car. And he drives away. The road to the nearest farthest hotel is a blur of the white lines on the high way and all the words Amelia said and all the words Dean never did.

He wonders how many miles it will take to erase Sam Winchester. How many road signs, how many towns on the highway have to be passed before he is just a mere memory etched in the back of people's cautious and hidden thoughts. He wonders if Dean will look for him. If Amelia will come after him.

His cell phone sits cushioned in the rotten leather in the seat next to him, neither ringing nor buzzing.

And Sam Winchester realizes that the amount of miles and road signs and highway-side towns don't matter. Because you can't erase a man who no one really cared for in the first place.


End file.
